Let There Be Peace

 I woke much too early this morning, startled awake by a terrifying roar overhead, the windows rattling in their sashes, the sound of somebody crying somewhere in the darkness.  Well, lucky for me, it was only a raging wind slamming into my house and not bombs raining death all around me; only the cry of a frightened cat, not that of a child ripped open by errant shrapnel.  I was safe and warm in my bed, and so, no doubt, were all those I loved.  Dear God, may that be so now for all who have suffered through this Iraq War, soldiers and civilians alike.  "Let woe and waste of warfare cease, . . .  Lord, grant thy wayward people peace."  Those are words from a hymn we sing in church, and they ran through my mind all day.

That raging wind dragged a new weather system upon us, with a warm blustery morning merging into a quiet cold afternoon.  By the time I walked in Woods Hollow Nature Preserve in Ballston Spa this afternoon, the pond lay as still as glass, and I was grateful for the sense of peace this landscape evoked in me.

 Soaring pines towered over my head, lifting my spirits along with my gaze.  Although there were many clouds, bright spots of blue showed through.

 Eons of pine needles cushioned the path, so I walked along without making a sound, embraced by silence.  Perhaps we will soon have snow, with colder weather moving in, and these pretty Wintergreen plants will endure the winter under the snow, emerging in spring as fresh and green as they look today, their berries still plump and bright.  I find their resilience reassuring, when I think of all those who have been wounded by war.

I know there's a large school of goldfish living in Woods Hollow Pond, but I'm always startled to see them, bright orange flashes among the green of reflected pines.  They probably got here by somebody dumping an unwanted few from a fishbowl, and over the years their population has soared.

I wonder what kind of havoc they are wreaking upon the pond's ecosystem, since this is not a native species.  Dumping them in here probably seemed like a good idea at the time, to the ill-informed person who introduced them.  Just like invading Iraq was some ill-informed people's idea of a good decision, nine years and hundreds of thousands of deaths ago.  Ah well, at least these goldfish are beautiful, and they haven't drained our nation's treasury nor poured our nation's children down the terrible black hole of war.

The Flowers Are Coming Fast!

So many flowers, so little time! Because a cold and snowy spring delayed the onset of blooming, the wildflowers are now making up for lost time in this lovely warm weather. On Sundays, church duties keep me out of the woods until afternoon, so I had to really scurry to keep up with today's burst-into-bloomers, making a quick run to the Skidmore Woods before heading over to Ballston Spa to circle the pond at Woods Hollow Nature Preserve.

In alphabetical order, here are most of the flowers I found blooming today.

Birch catkins swaying in the breeze

Corn Speedwell, a tiny weed growing along the sidewalk near my home

Dwarf Ginseng, which will bloom for a week or so and then disappear completely

Early Meadow Rue, with staminate flowers dangling like windchimes .

Puffy pistillate flowers were growing on a separate plant nearby.

Goldthread, whose snowy sepals could be mistaken for petals

and whose yellow-jello petals look sort of like anthers

Large-flowered Bellwort usually blooms at least a week later than the

sessile-leaved kind, but this year the two opened their buds the same week.

Leatherleaf has found a boggy shore to its

liking

in one bay of the Woods Hollow pond.

Long-spurred Violet thrives in the Skidmore Woods.

It's pretty evident how it got its name.

Northern White Violet loves wet spots and usually blooms

a bit earlier than the similar Sweet White Violet.

Pellia epiphylla. Not many liverworts, even

common ones like this, have common names.

Shadblow, Serviceberry, Juneberry -- whichever name you

call this first flowering tree of spring, it couldn't be lovelier.

Small-flowered Crowfoot, whose tiny stars

often shine unseen because they are so small

Sweet Fern. These fluffy red female flowers bloom before the male flowers on its own plant do, relying on wind to carry pollen from neighboring plants with open male catkins.

Willow. What kind? Even botanists find this genus confusing.

I'd never seen one so beautifully yellow, and it was fragrant, too.

Not all my finds today were floral. The population of goldfish in the Woods Hollow pond has burgeoned over the years from what was probably just one fishbowl full at first. How startling to see their vivid orange slashing through the green reflections.

This Yellow-rumped Warbler was singing away right over my head, and I should have been able to get a perfect photo of it. I might have, too, if I hadn't just been shooting white flowers and had the camera's exposure shut way down. By the time I caught my error, the bird had flown away. That I managed to capture an image at all speaks volumes about the wonders of computer manipulation.